


Drowning in Four Inches of Water

by RyanDamion



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Mild Self Harm, Original Character - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanDamion/pseuds/RyanDamion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes him a while to realize that it's not just water from the shower cascading down to the bottom of the tub.</p><p>Warnings for self harm, depression, and mild suicidal ideation</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drowning in Four Inches of Water

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for self harm, depression, and mild suicidal ideation.

It takes him a while to realize that it's not just water from the shower cascading down to the bottom of the tub. The salty tears mix with the water running in rivers down his face, creating an illusion of peace.

His eyes are bleary from the poison cocktail of tears, pain, and water. He stares at the bottom of the tub, the chipped, yellow bottom reminding him of a porcelain doll left to rot.

The water swirls around the drain, not quite emptying the tub as quickly as it enters. He stands there, under the burning hot spray of the shower, and watches as the water slowly builds up in the bottom of the old bathtub.

His breathing becomes ragged, his heart beginning to pound in his chest as the water begins to rise.

It takes him a while to notice that he is kneeling on the bottom of the tub, the puddle of burning liquid scalding his hands and legs. His head is at rest on the chipped yellow broken doll bottom of the tub, his eyes watching as the water slowly builds up.

The water rises, creeping up his body like a growth of ivy, determined to suffocate it's host plant.

The water level reaches his eyelids and he almost falls flat on his face from the akward position, noticing for the first time how he's hyperventilating. The tears are streaming down his face faster than the water, which is rising up to consume him.

He's drowning in the four inches of poison; tears, pain, and water rising up to suffocate him in their depths.

With a gasp, he pushes himself upright into a sitting position. The now icy cold water pelts his back with the same relentless force, bringing him back to some form of reality.

He stands up, shutting the water off and almost falling out of the shower. He stumbles back to his den, not even bothering to dry himself off, head spinning like a child's top.

He curls into the nest of blankets, groping around blindly until his hand finds the familiar cold metal of his blade. He curls into a ball under the blankets and lets his blood mix in with the cocktail on his sheets from his trip to the shower.

It would be so easy, he thinks, to just end it.

It would be so easy to just give up and let his blood turn the water in the tub wine red and drown in the silent air around him.

It takes him a while to notice that the spinning of the room around him has increased with the size of the blood puddle he lays in.

Desperately, he presses the blankets in his nest to the wound, applying as much pressure as he can to stop himself from drowning in the blood red four inches of bath water in his only safe place.

It would be so easy to just end it, to just sink into warm ruby red salt water, if not for his grip on the blade being his only grip on reality.


End file.
